Too busy or too lazy?

I come and look at my blog almost every day. I'll stare at it for a few minutes and then remember something that I had to do and so nothing gets written. Lately I have gotten very busy with life, school, and work, and joining a sorority and all, but I always have plenty of free time as well.

So this leads me to the big question in my title. Am I too busy to have a blog that I post regularly in? Or just too lazy? I know I certainly have plenty of things to say, in fact just writing this I thought of an amusing story that I'll probably share right after I post this. If I post this, and if I don't realize I'm late for another Chi O event (whoops!).

When summer comes around, even though I'll likely be working two jobs, I'm going to make it my summer goal to post at least once a week.

Wish me luck!

To tattoo or not to tattoo

It's a feeling of rebellion, of freedom. Everyone experiences it at some point once they've left the nest, the need to express yourself and show the world that you are an adult, but you aren't done having fun yet. This crisis usually manifests itself in a piercing, a tattoo, that one night you get really drunk for the first time, you name it. My rebellious phase has been slow and cautious in showing up, calculating things and making sure the time is right for said phase to show, and I have to say I'm quite grateful because lately, all of my friends seem to be going through this and not all of their decisions are great.

She won't be thrilled with me for writing about this, but one friend of mine who broke up with her boyfriend of a year called me for advice a day or two after the break up. I don't know why, I have no idea what to do when it comes to handling significant others especially ones whom have been part of a life for so long. Anyway, I managed to talk her into remaining calm. She wanted to go out and party and do all of the things she hadn't when she and her ex were together, simply because it was one of the reasons he broke up with her. I thought I'd given very sage words of advice until I checked back in with her on Sunday. The result of her first weekend as a single woman: a tattoo.

Now, the idea has been planted in my mind ever since the summer between high school and college when I went to the state fair with two of my best friends. We got henna done, Emily picked out a geometric pattern, Sarah got a swirl of flowers. I chose a sea turtle swimming through some bubbles and flowers. Ever since that day, I've been hooked on the idea of actually getting a real turtle tattoo.

People always ask me "what's the significance of the turtle?" and my answer is: I really like turtles. When I went to the Bahamas with my science club, I got to see a real live sea turtle up close and personal. I've always had compassion for the endangered species types, and I mean really, who doesn't love turtles? Sure, some of you might think my reasons are a bit immature, but I've been thinking about it for almost two years now, and I keep coming back to that little design.

This is a bad picture of a prototype that my friend Sam hennaed on me earlier this evening. It's just a cute little representation of a turtle, but that would be the general location I would choose. It would be much smaller, maybe only the total size of the shell on this one.

So now I have to decide, do I want to get a tattoo when I go home for spring break? There aren't any tattoo shops anywhere near me, so it's really my only option. Here comes my rebellious streak, peaking slowly around the corner to make sure there aren't any dangers ahead. Do I just go with my gut and spring for it? Or should I take another two years to decide?

I want a hedgehog

As some of you probably know by now, I am an animal adorer. If it's got a face, two to four legs, and especially if it makes some sort of squeaking or chirping noise, I'm going to love it. And yes, that includes lizards and excludes snakes. Snakes are the stuff of my nightmares, and I'm also not a fan of worms, hence the two to four leg requirement. Fish are different so don't start that argument with me.

Anyway, my roommate decided that college wasn't for her about two weeks into the semester and left me with a room to myself. While I enjoy it most of the time, it can get a bit lonely, especially since I've been sick and confined to my bed for much of the past three weeks. Naturally, my first choice for some company of the non-human variety would be a cat, but those aren't allowed at school. Other people suggest fish, but once again, fish are a completely different story. With the exception of Maurice the dancing fish, owned and much adored by Delana @http://delana-dujour.blogspot.com, you can't really pet or play with a fish.

So I started scrolling the internet for small creatures that the school couldn't protest, especially since I will be moving into my new sorority house next fall where it might actually possible to have a real pet.

Hamster. No, too much like that car commercial.

Guinea pig. Too big, too noisy.

Lizard. Awesome, but not cuddly.

Then it hit me....

Can you get much cuter than those little noses, fuzzy tummies, and little chirpy sounds? Yeah, I'm sure some of you think the spines poking out of their back might be an issue. Actually, they really aren't. When I worked at the local zoo, taking care of and playing with the hedgehogs were part of my job. Once they get used to you and come out of their ball-like defense mechanism, they're playful, snuggly, and shockingly soft. My co-worker and I could sit with our two little charges, Gidget and Gadget, for ages just petting them and feeding them little bits of fruits and veggies.

So, now I want a hedgehog. I would name it Hamish, because how could a hedgehog not be called something like that. They are British for the most part. My mother does not approve, but I'm an adult now and I can do adult things! Like buy a hedgehog after I get enough money.

So who knows, maybe next fall there will be a new addition to my party of one. I'll keep you posted.

Crazy Ideas

For the time being, let's pretend like all pasts posts don't exist and none of you have any idea who I am.

We're introduced at a party and, as usual, talk turns to plans for the future and what we do for jobs/education etc. In May, I couldn't have told you anything specific, just an awkward shoulder shrug and silence and then a desperate jump to a different topic. Well as of July, I could finally give people definite answers: I'm going to France for three months. This, shockingly, was my mother's idea, she's been a Francophile for forever and has passed on to me not only her eyes and questionable attitude about rules but her love for the French and France as well.

Now, most people have been asking me if this is a study abroad thing, something to do with school, and I've been saying no, this has nothing to with school or any other educational organizations. But since I've been here, a grand total of about fifty hours, I have a new answer for that question: Yes. It is a study abroad, a study of myself, of languages, of culture, of life. It may not have any scholastic value, unless I end up a language major which at this rate looks very likely to happen, but the value I will get from this experience is better than anything I could get at school.

Family Weekend

Last weekend was family weekend here at school. Its pretty much just a clever way to drain more money from or parents who are paying good money to send us here. It was great to see my parents again though, I've missed them so much.

Mom got in from a flight late and Dad left the house a bit late so they arrived at about 11 on Friday evening right in the middle of the "Elephant Love Medley" during the Moulin Rouge screening that was taking place in our room. Peter's younger sister Catherine had never seen it and so my bed was cramped with people. Colleen, Kate, Julie, Peter and I were in the middle of the sing-along as my parents walked in. Peter wins points for the best introduction, in sync with Ewan MacGregor, he changed the words of the song and made them in to "Hiiiiiiii, my name is Peeeeeterrrrr". It worked marvelously as an icebreaker and after a brief tour of the dorm, yet again, they said goodnight and headed to the bed and breakfast.

I had to get up early for swim practice, an event I'm beginning to hate more and more and more as the days go by, but they met me at the cafe in the student center for breakfast and we headed to the senior residences for the swim team bbq where the coach snubbed my mother and rubbed elbows with my father, Dad also made connections with another Italian father and now if I ever need a place to stay, I'm more than welcome at that family's house. The child is a freshman boy that I had hardly ever, and still rarely talk to. At least he was trying, I appreciated that. Mom was her usual social butterfly self, she chatted with the senior guys captain's parents.

Then it was back off to the dorm to change and make our way to the football game. We watched the second quarter and then shuttled off to the B&B so I could get my toddler and puppy fix as the proprietors had both. We spent a good couple happy hours there, Dad wresting the worn tennis ball from the dog, Cedar, and me and Mom spending our time with the adorable little girl, reading and flipping through her books. When we had to leave, she started sobbing. Apparently the same thing had happened earlier that morning when my parents had left, so I suppose it was a bit cruel to do it to her again. But we had reservations to get to.

So back to the dorm for a third time we trekked, meeting up with my roommate and her mom and the other families that were going to dinner. My friends and I had all decided at the beginning of the week before that we wanted our parents to get together and chat and become as good of friends as we were, so we all caravaned out to a restaurant about 15 minutes away, the only place that could hold all 24 of us on such short notice. Parents sat at their table and chatted, presumably about us but no one can really be sure, and the college students and various siblings staked out a "kids table". It was a blast, Kate's twin Sara and Matt had an art-off as they attempted to outdo each other in artistic drawings. Really, it was a wipe out with Matt feebly trying to keep up with Sara who goes to a school for the arts specifically. The kids finished and got our checks before the parents, so we went to wait outside so as not to crowd the building. Kate's dog was in the car so we got him out and had fun running around with him for a bit before we broke off to our separate cars to head back with our parents.

The next day, it was a brunch that seemed to brief at the cafeteria, and a quick tour of the bookstore again before they had to leave. Mom had work early the next morning and the drive home is already exhaustingly long. So I stood on the steps and cried as I waved them off. I'm not a big fan of goodbyes, especially since home is so far away. The only reason I probably stopped crying really was because I knew I would see them in 10 days for the mid-semester break. But still, it hurts to say goodbye.

Waldo-ing

Last night while a good majority of our dorm fellows went out and did "cool things" like go to the concert or frequent the one club in town, or go to one of the many theme parties, my gang and I went to an open mic in a nearby town. We got terrified of some particularly zealous religious people and ended the evening early, coming home around 9:30. I'd just like to toss in the disclaimer that I'm a fairly religious person. I accept a majority of world views and don't judge anyone as I'd rather they not judge me. These people were somewhat insane. What we didn't know was that the open mic was housed and sponsored by a church group. The people then tried to pressure us to talk about beliefs in a sneaky sort of way and then challenged us if they weren't the same. I think the final straw for that night though was when the sweet grandmother got up and started reading her poetry, very aggressively.

After we escaped and rescued three of our classmates, three or four colleges in the region were there and we were all the only people the others knew, we made it back to the dorm and walked in on something just a bit more crazy.

Matt is an actor, YouTube comedy phenom and funny guy. He's also my neighbor. He told us before that he'd dressed up as Waldo from the book series Where's Waldo? for his senior class group picture and we all had a laugh about it. What we didn't expect was that after our already harrowing evening we'd walk in on him completely in costume and character as Waldo.

The point of this exercise?
"I'm going to walk around and confuse drunk people"

Worthy goal.

So Colleen grabbed her video camera, Kate, Julie and I changed into more appropriate running shoes and we followed him out to document the night of Waldo.

Overall, the reactions were limited to "hey its Waldo!" "dude, I found you!" and "its effing Waldo!". Matt informed us that none of these reactions were new and we nodded, double taking a moment later to wonder exactly how much data he had to back this up with. Throughout the night he poked his head in windows, got chased by several drunk people who wanted to catch him, experienced photo ops and ordered a grilled cheese sandwich from the pub in the student center, even paying for his meal in cash instead of with his meal plan card so he didn't give his real identity away.

The high point of the evening came as we found a perfect spot to stand by the student center with heavy foot traffic and a group of people recognized one of the guys standing with us. At this point, one of them ran up, gave Waldo a hug and a handshake and stated "I've been looking for you my whole life." That one, Matt told us later, was new.

Not long after, we decided to head back and found one of our friends watching the Princess and the Frog in our upstairs CA's room. We finished it with them and then put in Anastasia for about half an hour befo

re we all decided we were too tired to watch any longer, said our goodnights and goodbyes and went to bed, all around 12:30.

And away we go!

First blog post. Ever. This is big, this is bigger than big this is huge.

Well, not really.

Anyway, back to business.

It's officially a month into my freshman year of college, or it will be on Sunday. I've had classes for two and a half weeks now, made some great friends, cried when my parents left and then cried again when Mom came to

visit and then had to leave.

I'll just do a quick recap of what's happened so far:

August:

• Mom and Dad dropped me off at school, many tears ensued.
• I met some amazing people and had a tiring and packed full but awesome orientation experience.
• Started classes
• Met my swim teammates for the first time and started practicing.
• Collaborated with my incredible dorm/housemates to create an amazing rendition of the school's alma mater and a banner to represent our house at the First Year Cup. We lost everything except for the song, a bit of a no brainer since we are the performing arts college. Still, we're in second place overall.

September:

• Discovered the rope swing and just how pretty nature can be.

• Continued classes, forgot assignments, made them up and wrote my first college essay.
• Dealt with our first drunk person.
• Still have to deal with some drunk people.
• Mom visited
• Found employment in the costume shop as helper monkey/makeup lady. Turns out its actually a work study program which means I'm actually getting paid instead of just volunteering.

And now, four weeks in I have a group of the best friends I could hope to find. There's the inner circle, the whiteboard-hood (it can't really be a sisterhood because Matt's part of it) and the generally amazing people that live in the dorm and then the swim friends. All great people I'm so lucky to have found them and chosen this place.